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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729350">Behind closed curtains</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingbatch/pseuds/consultingbatch'>consultingbatch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lovers at first sight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual John Watson, Drunk John Watson, Drunk Sherlock Holmes, Drunken Confessions, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, First Kiss, Fix-It, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, No Smut, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock is a drama queen, Sorry Not Sorry Mary, Will she come back?, deleted gay bar scene, soft johnlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:13:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingbatch/pseuds/consultingbatch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Waltz right?” he asked with his hands behind his back, his camel dressing gown fluttering after him, before he looked at John.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, Waltz. More traditional.” the doctor said and got up as well, clenching and unclenching his fists continuously. “The curtains though… close them, please…” he asked, looking at the windows, trying to figure out if people might have seen them dancing together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lovers at first sight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Behind closed curtains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gentle spring breeze was blowing in the metropolis, bringing refreshment and an air of change to its citizens. Kids were running in the park, screaming and playing hide-and-seek, while their parents, watching over them, were chatting about school and Easter holidays approaching. Couples strolling, hand in hand, discussing and laughing together. </p>
<p>A friendly middle-aged man and a blonde woman were among these couples, taking their daily walk in the park, enjoying the nice sunny day and discussing about their wedding animatedly.</p>
<p>“Are you sure this friend of yours won’t come, Mary? They keep running low… the whole church is filled by my family.” The man said, squeezing his bride-to-be’s hand. </p>
<p>“Oh, John, I’ve told you. It’s not my fault if everyone’s cancelling last minute. Sherlock told us both not everyone goes well along with me.” The blonde woman chuckled and kept walking until she found a bench where to sit to keep discussing. </p>
<p>The trees were in full bloom, but some petals, having displayed their complete delicacy and beauty, decided to take their leave from the branches, helped by the mild breeze. If people were keen enough to observe this natural miracle, it would seem to be like a dance. One petal, after twisting and turning in the air, flew away in all its grace. </p>
<p>It travelled around the city, being granted the honour to watch over the thousands of citizens with a bird’s eye view, until it culminated its journey on a windowsill of a brown bricked building. </p>
<p>The man living inside, after experimenting with eye bulbs, dropped everything on the kitchen table, and noticed just in time the ending of this dance. The atmosphere in the flat was surreal, compared to its usual. Although the consulting detective was missing his work, he was motivated to start writing a composition for the dance of his best friend’s wedding. </p>
<p>He had consciously waited long because deep down, he really didn’t want that moment to happen. Since John had moved out to live with Mary, the flat had become terribly silent. No more banters about cases, no more discussion regarding who should go out for food shopping - nothing of that kind. Now Sherlock was alone with his thoughts, trying to fight the nostalgia that was lurking in his mind palace. Flashes of his life with John kept coming up, and all he could do to help himself was to stay busy. </p>
<p>After a few seconds spent staring at his musical sheets, he grabbed a pencil, sat at the desk and started scribbling something. This was as hard as the best man’s speech he had to write. Not after long, he heard some familiar steps climbing the stairs and John walked into the flat. Sherlock pretended to be busy, but it was impossible for him to hide his beaming smile. </p>
<p>“Busy?” the army doctor asked, panting a bit as he had rushed from the park to Baker Street after telling Mary to keep deciding over the final details of their wedding from home. He sat down on his armchair, feeling the familiar rough texture under his fingertips. He was surprised that Sherlock kept it. But the detective could not get rid of it, not yet. After all, he was still hopeful that John would come and visit him even after the wedding.</p>
<p>“What do you think I am doing?” Sherlock asked in reply, not lifting his gaze from the paper, nibbling his pencil while thinking.</p>
<p>“Uhm… I’d say you’re composing. Is it what you plan to play at the wedding?” John said,  with that always-curious tone in his voice. </p>
<p>“If I manage to write something decent, then yes. You will hear it while dancing with Mary.” the curly-haired man replied, a bittersweet undertone in his voice.</p>
<p>“Oh come on, don’t try to be modest, we all know that your pieces are amazing!” John chuckled and smiled. Sherlock gave him a quick glance and smiled softly, blushing slightly, before staring back at the paper and scribbling down some more notes. </p>
<p>John rose from the chair and took a deep breath before speaking. “Talking of dancing, I need your help, Sherlock. We both know how terrible I am at that. If I remember well, you  seemed to be pretty good at it…” </p>
<p>“Well, I am. I like dancing…” he said, and elaborated what his best friend was trying to say. “So, you want me to teach you dancing the Waltz?” he immediately added, even before John could formulate the question. </p>
<p>John nodded slowly. “Yes, that was what I wanted to ask you. If you’re  not too uncomfortable with that, of course.” He hoped that Sherlock would accept. It would have been too embarrassing for him to go to a dance class with Mary, especially in light of her sudden possessiveness.</p>
<p>“Of course I am not uncomfortable.” Sherlock quickly corrected him and raised his eyes from the paper.  All focus was gone now, only to leave behind an empty weird feeling in his stomach, and a certain lightness in his chest. </p>
<p>“When do you want to start?” he asked softly, getting up and going into the kitchen to make some tea.</p>
<p>“Any day sounds okay, if I’m honest. Everything’s ready with the preparation of the wedding… Mary is just adjusting some final things, and I am enjoying my free time here.” John spoke softly, starting beating his fingers on his lap. </p>
<p>“Mmhhh, right…” Sherlock mumbled as he was back with two mugs and passed one to the doctor. “Shall we meet tomorrow then?” he asked before sipping his tea.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow it is.” John replied and smiled back at him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day, in the late afternoon, John arrived at Baker Street. He actually managed to invent an excuse to get there without making Mary jealous: a ‘sick patient’ allowed him to rush outside with his work bag, and off he went to 221B. Once inside, Mrs Hudson welcomed him.</p>
<p>“Hello, John dear! Here for tea with Sherlock?” she asked smiling, happy to see John back at the flat, like the old times.</p>
<p>“Hey Hudders! Well, actually, I am here for some Waltz lessons Sherlock promised me.” he replied, scratching the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>“Oh Sherlock, dear boy!” the old landlady chuckled “I’ll bring you some tea, don’t worry about that, lovelies.” She added before going back into her flat.</p>
<p>John finally climbed the stairs and found Sherlock still scribbling down some more parts of the melody. He nodded at him and took off his jacket, hanging it at the door as he used to when he lived there. </p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a quick smile and got up. “So, Waltz right?” he asked with his hands behind his back, his camel dressing gown fluttering after him, before he looked at John.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, Waltz. More traditional.” the doctor said and got up as well, clenching and unclenching his fists continuously. “The curtains though… close them, please…” he asked, looking at the windows, trying to figure out if people might have seen them dancing together.</p>
<p>“People might talk, right?” Sherlock teasingly brought up with a smirk, but did as John asked, shutting out most of the light.</p>
<p>John blushed slightly and nodded. </p>
<p>In that moment, Mrs Hudson walked in the flat, bringing some tea for the boys. </p>
<p>“Well, everyone has their own opinions.” She popped up into the conversation and left the tea on the small table near John’s armchair. “Still, there’s no need to hide, my dears. This neighbourhood is quite open-minded, I have always told you that.” she chuckled and left the room. </p>
<p>John blushed heavier. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not gay? I am getting married… to a woman!” he said smiling, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed and lifted his brows. “Shall we begin then? So, the most important, main steps are called the box step, because you draw a square with your feet as you move. I will show you the leading ones since you will be the leader in the couple.” Sherlock said, trying to be as clear and simple as possible with his explanation.</p>
<p>“First, we start standing normally, with distanced feet. We’ll work on where the arms go, once you’ve learned the steps, right? After that, we move the right foot forward, followed by the left one which, after reaching the right one, slides to the left, immediately followed by the other. We stop for a moment, then the left foot moves backwards, followed by the right one which slides on the right and we are in the starting position.” Sherlock continued and looked at John, who appeared puzzled. “Did you follow me?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Ehm… sort of… I can try to show you what I’ve got so far, but you’ll be disappointed.” He said and tried to remember what Sherlock did, turning out to be a bit clumsy with the steps.</p>
<p>“There is certainly a lot to work on, but I am sure you’ll learn. It just takes practice, as with everything.” Sherlock encouraged him and corrected him whenever John looked stiff with his steps.</p>
<p>After a small break for tea and a few hours of repetitions of the main steps, the doctor appeared more confident and smooth and he smiled surprised at his progress. “Now what?”</p>
<p>“We can continue if you want, or you could come over again tomorrow and we do everything as a couple.” Sherlock simply said, sounding perfectly calm, even if, inside his stomach thousands of butterflies, or rather bees, started flying around, bringing him a weird sensation in his body.</p>
<p>“I think we have done a lot for today. I’ll pass by tomorrow for tea and then we’ll continue.” John smiled gratefully, picking up his jacket and wore it. “Thank you, Sherlock, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he said softly and walked downstairs. </p>
<p>“Bye, John.” the detective mumbled, moving the curtain just enough to see his doctor walking back home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day, around tea time, the detective was staring outside the window just to see if John was coming as he had promised. But his conductor of light was nowhere to be seen in the streets. </p>
<p>He moved to the kitchen to make tea, and once the water was boiling he poured it in his mug. As he drowned the teabag in it, he chuckled bitterly looking at it. At first, it was floating but he instinctively pushed it down with the spoon, letting it drown in the water. A bit like his heart. When John was around him, his heart floated lightly, dancing in his chest - such an ineffable feeling: now that his partner in crime was about to be taken away from him, he knew that deep down, his cardiac organ would sink to where it had been before, maybe becoming as cold and icy as it had been in the past. And Sherlock didn’t want that to happen. John brought to his life so much joy, and a breath of fresh air; now all that was almost gone.</p>
<p>Lost in thoughts, he didn’t hear John stepping in, staring at him from the doorframe. </p>
<p>“You okay? Lost in your mind palace again?” the doctor smiled softly and got inside. </p>
<p>Sherlock automatically passed him a mug with tea and shook his head to come back to reality. “Yes, yes I am okay.” he mumbled and took a sip of tea. “What about you, though? You seem… nervous.” he said after quickly scanning John with his light-blue eyes. As a matter of fact, when John stepped inside, he kept looking down and clenching and unclenching his fists. “Did you-”  </p>
<p>"-Have a discussion with Mary? Yes, I did. She was pissed I was coming here… but how could she be? These… these are the last days I can spend with my best friend, before being fully engaged with her… for the rest of my life.” John sighed and put the mug down, to rub his face with his hands. “I don’t know, Sherlock. All of this makes me even more confused… what if I am not a good husband? What if I am not enough for her? I should be spending my time with her but I will have the rest of my life to do that. For the moment, I want to be free as I was, unattached.” He raised his gaze to meet Sherlock’s, smirking as their first case popped into his head again. </p>
<p>Sherlock smirked back, but internally he felt completely confused and didn’t know how to act. He wanted the best for the couple but at the same time, he didn’t want John to suffer for Mary. He had this love-hate relationship with her. He liked her smartness but there was something wrong in her that made it hard to trust her completely, too many mysteries about her past that even his inquisitive gaze wasn’t able to detect. </p>
<p>The curly man stepped closer to John and patted awkwardly on his shoulder a few times. </p>
<p>“You are enough, John. Don’t think so low of yourself. Now enjoy your tea. We will practice and you’ll be able to go back home in time.” He reassured him and sat on his armchair, sipping his tea in silence, glancing at John, trying to discern if his words could help his mind. </p>
<p>The silence was becoming heavy, so John took the lead and got up. </p>
<p>“So what is the second part about?” he said and looked at his friend.</p>
<p>"Dancing as a couple.” Sherlock replied and got up as well, closed the curtains and stepped in front of John.</p>
<p>They both were quite reluctant and embarrassed but finally, Sherlock decided to make the first move. He placed his left hand on John’s shoulder and took John’s left hand with his right. It was the first real physical contact they had had in a long time, and the first time they were this close. He could feel his stomach jumping around and his legs trembling a bit, but he frantically tried to come back to his senses.</p>
<p>“Your right-hand goes on the shoulder blade. Or on the waist, if you are more comfortable with that.” Sherlock corrected the doctor, who hesitantly put his warm hand on Sherlock’s waist. </p>
<p>John felt very hesitant and uncomfortable but still steady by touching Sherlock’s skinny side. The taller man’s grip was secure and confident and by the look in his eyes, he seemed completely at ease, as he started moving to practice the steps he had taught him the day before. </p>
<p>But the calm on Sherlock’s face was just illusory. When John touched his waist, a warm shiver went down Sherlock’s spine. The warmth radiating through John’s hand seemed to reach his skin under the fabrics of his camel silk gown and shirt, sending a sense of comfort all over his body.  </p>
<p>As they danced, the detective’s legs trembled slightly but he kept his focus on John’s face, to capture if there were signs of distress, but it didn’t seem like it. John was actually having a good time.</p>
<p>The good doctor first looked down at his feet, to check if he was following Sherlock’s instructions. </p>
<p>“You cannot look at your feet when you are dancing at the wedding, John.” Sherlock promptly said and squeezed his hand to draw his focus back to his face.</p>
<p>John looked up and as his eyes locked with Sherlock’s, he felt overwhelmed and licked his lips nervously. </p>
<p>Sherlock felt the same, really. How he wished eyes could talk! </p>
<p>Unbeknownst to him, they did-  the detective’s eyes did tell John the truth. The complete truth about his feelings for him -about how much he loved that down-to-earth doctor,   the man who had taken his life and changed it for the better.</p>
<p>He could tell from the sparkle in John’s eyes that the feeling was mutual, but he knew it was hidden. It was an instinctive feeling buried down in the doctor’s chest, unseen by many, maybe even John himself, but not by Sherlock. </p>
<p>If he could have done that, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bring it back to life. He would have dug deep down to reach the chest containing the real John only he could see, withheld by no restraints imposed by society. </p>
<p>The dance continued, and they could both feel that practice was making them fluid-  as if they were one entity in harmony.</p>
<p>Sherlock was lost thinking, observing, feeling emotions he had never felt before;  he was simply mesmerized just by looking at John’s face. The attraction to him was astronomical now: inescapable as an asteroid captured to orbit around a planet’s centre of gravity forever.</p>
<p>The detective’s lips were slightly parted, and his eyes couldn’t look anywhere other than the doctor’s face, who looked more relaxed now and smiled at him, softly. </p>
<p>Their faces were now close, as their bodies had moved closer than before. They could almost feel the warmth both of them were radiating. Sherlock moved his face closer to John’s cheek for an instant, smelling his <em> eau de cologne </em> as he was breathing in and his lips were heading towards the other’s ones when a sweet voice came from behind them, making Sherlock stiffen immediately and step back.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to interrupt you, boys. I just got a call from Mary. She told me she is preparing dinner, John.” Mrs Hudson said, staring at them a bit sadly.</p>
<p>“Sure! yes… thank you for telling me, Hudders.” John immediately replied and looked down. “I guess it’s late… better if I go back home now.” he mumbled and took his jacket. Before leaving, he looked at Sherlock, who had been looking down at his feet before raising his gaze to meet John’s. “Thanks, Sherlock. See you.” he said quietly and left the room, walking as quickly as he could to reach home.</p>
<p>Sherlock smiled and nodded at him slightly, before moving to open the curtains- just an excuse to see John heading home. As he turned back, he found Mrs Hudson still there, staring at him. </p>
<p>“Isn’t it the time for your favourite crap telly show?” he asked harshly, moving back to the desk almost trying to protect the composition in which he had poured out all his feelings, from unwanted eyes.  </p>
<p>“Yes, dear, it is. But first, let me take down the mugs to wash” she said, moving to the wooden table near John’s armchair. </p>
<p>“Then do it quickly. I need to stay alone to think and finish this.” the annoyed man added and sat down at the desk, picking up his sheets and pencil, pretending to be scribbling down something.</p>
<p>The old landlady sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her. Sherlock waited until he heard the door downstairs closing before taking deep breaths and ruffling his hair with his hands, then hiding his face in them. </p>
<p>His mind was exploding with feelings. He was feeling ashamed and guilty. His heart that minutes before had been so light, crashed down, being torn apart by his stupid feelings. </p>
<p>As he was thinking, he smelt something in his hands. It was John’s scent. John… His friend would surely never forgive him for what he had almost dared to do. He would have never been the same to his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days passed, and the wedding date was inching closer, and John barely had time to visit Sherlock. It might have been nervousness, the compulsive need to check that everything was ready: cake ordered, clothes all perfect for the ceremony, invitations that had been sent to the guests just in time.</p>
<p>In 221B, the atmosphere was rather monotonous. The detective had finished the composition, after continuous adjustments and revisions. It was perfect to his eyes and ears, just what John deserved for his big day. </p>
<p>Right one week before the ceremony, John decided to text Sherlock. The detective’s phone buzzed and caught his attention right before he was going to burn some thumbs, which, in hindsight, could put the whole building in possible danger.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>[From: John</p>
<p>Hey, Sherlock.</p>
<p>I was thinking about going out to have a beer with you on our last night together before the wedding.  </p>
<p>Thursday sounds okay to you?</p>
<p>I’ll come to pick you up.]</p>
<p>[From: John</p>
<p>I’ll leave choosing the best pubs up to you.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock stared at the phone for a few seconds before replying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[To: John</p>
<p>Fine by me. See you Thursday. - SH]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He put the phone aside and continued with his experiment, torn between the excitement to spend a night with John and the unwillingness of letting him go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thursday night came over rather quickly. Sherlock spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out what to wear for the occasion, but in the end, he chose a white shirt and dark blue suit. As he was getting ready, the doorbell rang and John popped up in the flat. </p>
<p>“Hi, Sherlock.” John said with a smile. “Ready for the big night?” he asked chuckling. He knew Sherlock wasn’t much of a fan when it came to alcohol, but he wanted to have fun with him and that was definitely the best way to do it. </p>
<p>“I think so… I have chosen the pubs near which a body was found… to remind us of our cases” the other said excitedly, before wearing his coat, and giving John a small, excited smile. </p>
<p>Soon, they were both ready to go to the first of their destinations. </p>
<p>John sat down on a leather sofa of the pub, whilst Sherlock went to the bartender, giving him two laboratory graduated cylinders which he had stolen from Bart’s. The man looked at him confused, but Sherlock’s persistent stare made him fill those unconventional glasses with beer. The detective had already estimated the exact amount of beer needed for feeling a bit tipsy, before drinking vodka shots as they continued their night. </p>
<p>When he came back to the table, John laughed.</p>
<p>“Are you serious? Are we really going to drink in those… things?” He asked confused but not really surprised of what Sherlock was capable of doing. </p>
<p>“They are called graduated cylinders, John. I have estimated the exact quantity of alcohol we have to drink before we get drunk.” the other said softly, smiling at his friend.</p>
<p>“Oh… right… you really wanted everything to be perfect. Cheers.” John continued and raised his ‘glass’ before taking a sip. Sherlock just smiled at him before clinking their unconventional glasses and sipping as well.</p>
<p>The stag night kept going smoothly. After just a few drinks, the alcohol was already circulating in their systems. Sherlock took note on his phone about exactly how much they had drunk, and the time intervals after which they’d be needing restrooms, and so on. </p>
<p>The pubs were all quite noisy, full of people dancing and having fun. Sherlock felt out of his element but still tried to enjoy his night with John, even if both of them sounded quite drunk by that moment. </p>
<p>One of the last pubs they visited was a very funky one, rainbow colours were lightening the room as they entered, but none of them complained of that choice. Sherlock had already lost his usual self-control, starting to chuckle uncontrollably as he sat down, waiting for John to come back with vodka. The other one, meanwhile, was looking about the nightclub with interest, and eventually headed to the bartender, who had seen them getting inside.</p>
<p>“Vodkas, two, please.” John said and looked around as he waited.</p>
<p>“Hey mate! You having fun with your friend?” the man asked as he filled the recipients. </p>
<p>“Oh very much so,  we are going about drinking for the whole night. Quite fun.” John chuckled.</p>
<p>“I am getting married this weekend… Ta, mate.” he said before grabbing the glasses and heading towards Sherlock. </p>
<p>“All the best for you and your friend!” the man said while taking orders from his other clients, but John was too far to listen to him. </p>
<p>“Here Sherlock. Cheers!” John said, clinking his glass with Sherlock’s, before taking a sip.</p>
<p>Right when they were starting enjoying themselves, between a laugh and a shot of vodka, the music which was playing stopped to give place to a new, loud song. Not far from their seats, on a medium-sized stage, three men wearing elegant clothes came out from the backstage. As the music started playing, they started with their striptease, leaving John and Sherlock speechless. </p>
<p>John almost choked on his drink, making Sherlock turn to him and looking at him worried. </p>
<p>The detective’s mind was overloaded with data, but tried clumsily to look sober. He glanced at John, now completely lost at staring at those men.  With the lucidity left, Sherlock could still read John, as an open book now. He could see how the army doctor was licking his lips nervously, perhaps every time one of those men exchanged a look with him. The eagerness in those grey eyes finally poured out thanks to the action of alcohol. John was finally feeling himself now, and thanks to this proof, Sherlock could finally stop feeling guilty about his feelings for John.  </p>
<p>The dance didn’t last long and the boys both tried to pretend nothing happened, despite some giggles due to their drunkenness. They decided to go back home as they had enough of all the loud music and drinks. As they walked back home, both stumbling on their feet, they held on each other, their hands touching a few times, but it seemed they didn’t mind. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>**********</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back at 221B, the staircase never looked so tall and blurred, a dream-like mountain to climb, demanding all their effort to make it possible. </p>
<p>“Better if we sit down a bit... “ John suggested, sitting on the stairs. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open as the whole room seemed to be spinning uncontrollably.</p>
<p>“Mmmhh… good idea” Sherlock whispered and massaged his temples. To him, every sound came in muffled and as he sat next to John, he couldn’t help lying down on the stairs, which looked even more comfortable than a bed now.  </p>
<p>John, after a while, did the same. Having Sherlock this close to him felt good. The warm presence at his side was <em>very </em>pleasing. He could even smell the honey shampoo Sherlock used. Something in his mind was telling him to turn so he could face Sherlock’s back and pull him close to himself, but just as he started turning, Mrs Hudson came out of her flat.</p>
<p>“Boys! What are you doing there?” she asked while holding a plastic bag for the rubbish.</p>
<p>“Can’t you see that? Mmmhh we’re…sleeping…” Sherlock mumbled childishly and wrapped himself up in his coat.</p>
<p>The old landlady chuckled and looked at her boys, smiling. “Well, you better try and get upstairs, come on. You’ll be more comfortable there.”</p>
<p>Sherlock and John nodded and tipsily got up, climbing the stairs leaning on each other, one gripping the wooden handrail and the other moving his hand on the wallpaper as they kept going. There was no trace of the previous embarrassment, just a grip that made them feel steady. </p>
<p>Once in the flat, they fell into their armchairs, remaining silent for a while, both panting a bit since the staircase climb had drained out all their energy.</p>
<p>Sherlock was feeling exhausted, and after having drunk so much, his mind was blurry and unresponsive. John wasn’t feeling good either, and his lips kept feeling dry. A more serious thought grabbed hold of his mind, and he found himself unable to look away from Sherlock, fixing an intense gaze on the man in the process.</p>
<p>“So, did you enjoy it? Not your typical routine, eh?” the doctor asked, after clearing his voice.</p>
<p>“Mmmh, no… totally not what I expected it to turn out...” the other said, massaging his temples, looking back at John.</p>
<p>Almost intuitively, however, he could feel something different in John’s look. Despite the room spinning, he recognised the same glance John had given the dancers at the club. He was naked to his eyes now, open as a book.</p>
<p>He could read John, and could feel the eagerness in him. But was that really true? No, it might be the alcohol… he shouldn’t have drunk so much! Now his deduction skills were ineffective.</p>
<p>To kill time, they decided to play a game, placing sticky notes on each other’s foreheads, all the while giggling like school kids. After a considerable amountile of non-sense deductions from the detective, John chuckled a little, and got up, first leaning on Sherlock’s knee so as to stand up and then bent over to pull Sherlock up with him, both swaying and risking to fall onto each other. </p>
<p>The detective furrowed his brows and looked at his friend confused. “What are you doing?” he asked chuckling, when John placed one hand on his waist and the other intertwined with his.</p>
<p>“Dancing, you silly. I have to practice now that the actual wedding is getting closer.” John replied and started twisting and dancing randomly in the room, sometimes stomping on Sherlock’s foot.</p>
<p>In a moment of sobriety, Sherlock wanted to know if that eager look was real or not. Did John really feel like that for him? Or was it just the alcohol?</p>
<p>“Are you ready for that?” the taller man asked while the other was leading the dance. “You weren’t sure last time we talked about it…”</p>
<p>John looked up at Sherlock and pulled back from him, startled by the truth he was trying to escape from for a long time.</p>
<p>"Of course I am sure, I am…” the last words were muttered softly, showing all his insecurities as they grew bigger and bigger. He took a moment to look at his engagement ring, staring at it with a distant and scared look in his eyes. He felt so overwhelmed that he had to sit back on his armchair, as he needed support. Sherlock felt the tension rising up around John- he could read him, clearly, even more easily than he usually did. </p>
<p>“I – I don’t think I can…” John spoke inaudibly, closing his hand in a fist to hide the shaking of it. </p>
<p>“I feel like I have made the biggest mistake of my life, Sherlock.” He continued, his hoarse voice stuck in his throat. The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“Everyone makes mistakes.” Sherlock promptly replied, trying to reassure him. He was studying him, unsure whether or not he could step closer to hug him, comfort him. Under normal circumstances, he would have stayed still, but now, he felt like it was being demanded-, something was pushing him towards John. The butterflies in his stomach were moving him forward.</p>
<p>“It’s not just that.” John’s gaze moved up to meet Sherlock’s as he felt a strong, reassuring squeeze in his arm. Sherlock sat down in front of him, looking at him with his piercing blue eyes. </p>
<p>“Then what?”</p>
<p>“It’s you, Sherlock”</p>
<p>Those words stabbed Sherlock’s heart. Was it like that, then? John, his best friend, was considering their friendship a mistake? What was all that enthusiasm? All those smiles, glances? All fake! His hopes were crushed again, as always.</p>
<p>The detective rose up to his feet in an instant, risking throwing up or falling because of the sudden movement. He couldn’t even look at John in the eyes now. He just stood up, still unstable on his legs and reached his coat he had thrown on the sofa. He had to get out of there. Was this really his gratitude for all the adventures they had together?</p>
<p>John saw all that was happening, and his brain cells were slowly putting everything together in a few moments. </p>
<p>“Sherlock, wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” he got up as well, stumbling and reaching Sherlock’s wrist to make him stay.</p>
<p>At the touch, the taller man quickly pulled his hand back. “What does it mean then? I am the mistake, as you’ve stated. Now that I know, I won’t bother you… ” His tone was upset, his eyes stinging with angry tears- angry for being taken as a fool. His voice was cut off when John closed the gap between them, cupped his face in his hands and kissed him deeply for a few seconds.</p>
<p>It was then, that Sherlock’s tense expression relaxed completely. He sighed against John’s lips, pressed on his, a smile slowly forming on his face as he felt light, almost floating, lost in the moment. </p>
<p>John, on his side, felt renewed. Somehow, whatever force pushed him to do what he was doing, felt pleasing inside. He always knew it was something he wanted to do… at least, to transgress a bit before his wedding, but doing it with his flatmate- the person who had saved his life without knowing- surprisingly, it just felt right. John now was pulling Sherlock down with him to sit on the floor. He felt weak, not because he was drunk, but because his legs were trembling, and he needed someone to hold on to. </p>
<p>This person was Sherlock, now on his knees as he was still kissing John, not even daring to break the kiss to breathe, as he was too afraid to snap out of that beautiful dream he was living. He could still feel John, his lips against his own, their tongues playing together, the fabric of his blue cashmere cardigan which he had gripped with his fingers. It was all real. All of this was happening behind closed curtains. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>******</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Was it the alcohol?” Sherlock asked. Now they were both sitting on the sofa, a bit less drunk and a bit more conscious of their feelings for each other. </p>
<p>“No… no it wasn’t,” the other chuckled “When you came back after the fall,” John paused, taking a deep breath to let go of the past and to embrace the present, “you made me realise something… what I felt for you wasn’t even comparable with what I felt for Mary. I have no idea why I kept lying to Mary or to myself about that. That’s the mistake, marrying her. I don’t want to lose this chance again, Sherlock.”</p>
<p>The detective was simply nodding, listening to every word attentively. Mary was off the game to let him in? Him? The freak detective? </p>
<p>“What should we do now? I mean, you are going to be married in less than 15 hours.” He said.</p>
<p>“I can’t do that anymore. Mary would probably want to kill me but I have to face the truth. My future is not there, but right here.” The doctor said, placing his warm hand on Sherlock’s, squeezing it gently. </p>
<p>“I want more, from this, from our adventurous life, from you…no matter how difficult it will be, I want to let in the life I kept rejecting.” he added, smiling, beaming at Sherlock, who was now smiling softly, blinking quickly to avoid tearing up a little. </p>
<p>Him, the stone-cold man, had never felt this happy before. He looked at John tenderly, placing his hand on his cheek, slowly rubbing it with his thumb. It felt unreal, to touch what he had longed for all this time. Finally he could call John <em> his </em>. The detective bent over to kiss John deep, laying with him on the sofa. As their legs intertwined with one another and soft, happy sighs escaped their lips, Mrs Hudson smiled seeing this and closed the door of the flat behind her, leaving them to their new cosy love nest.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A huge thanks to my lovely beta, jawnlovesme for editing this. Love you! ♡</p>
<p>Hope you will enjoy this fic of mine (took my 7 months to finalise it, ops) but it's here :)</p>
<p>All comments are welcome both here and on my twitter account @consultingbatch!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770909">Cover | Behind Closed Curtains</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant">allsovacant</a>
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